


dance

by achievingelysium



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Canon Compliant, Crushes, Except it's Sally/Paul's wedding you fools, F/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, Weddings, aaaand maybe u might die in a year but ur not totally sure, also look i wrote this in 2018 so lower your expectations slightly, but theres a wedding and u really want to tell her how u feel but ur scared, not that i've cared about canon ever lmao rick you wanna throw hands?, post-BoTL, probably, tfw u and ur crush had a fall out because of an incoming war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:33:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23833912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achievingelysium/pseuds/achievingelysium
Summary: It’s not a striking revelation. To be totally honest, it’s not a revelation at all—this feeling, the way his throat tightens when she’s around, how light she makes him feel.But for a moment, Percy wants to tell her.Post-BOTL. Percy's in love with his best friend. It's a lot more complicated than it sounds—like things usually are when the Greek gods are in the mix—and nothing is ever easy, with Annabeth. And then his mom's wedding happens.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Paul Blofis/Sally Jackson, Percy Jackson & Sally Jackson
Comments: 18
Kudos: 186





	dance

Percy hangs around the edges of the party.

Well—it’s not really a party, he supposes, considering there aren’t very many people. There’s Paul’s side of the family, though Percy admits he can’t remember all their names. There’s a handful of demigods and another handful of friends.

The wedding is quiet and small, just the way Mom had wanted it. There’s water against the shore, lapping softly. No storms or bad weather in sight, and Percy wonders briefly if this is his father’s doing.

Mom looks like today is the happiest day of her life. It’s  _ her  _ day, and gods be damned, Percy had fought tooth and nail to make it here. In the evening light, she looks radiant, almost a goddess herself.

What had Dad said?  _ Your mother is a goddess amongst mortals. _

There’s a smile on her face that hasn’t come off for weeks. Paul is grinning, too, and he spins her. The wedding dress flares out in a white wave, a sail flapping in the wind. They laugh as they go a little off-balance, and Mom clutches at Paul’s shoulder. There’s a moment, and then Percy looks away as they kiss.

Gods, Percy thinks.  _ Gods _ . He wants to see her smile like that every day, wants to see her happy. It makes his chest hurt thinking about it. For so long, it’s been the two of them against the world, and now the apartment isn’t quite so empty.

Someone clears their throat next to him. Percy jumps, hand flying to his pocket. He almost spills the punch he’s holding but manages to make sure none of it leaves the cup.

“Hey, you,” Annabeth says.

“Hey,” he says.

Percy hasn’t seen her since the beginning of the wedding. And before that, not often at all—after arguing and arguing they’d settled into distance and it’d hurt him as much as it was relieving. But Mom wanted her at the wedding, and he wanted her at the wedding, so Annabeth had been invited. 

Percy spent most of his time earlier flitting between Paul and Mom, and had promised them that the day was real. He’d held Mom’s hands and told her he’d wanted her to be happy.

After that, Mom had hooked her arm through his, and they’d walked down the aisle together. He hadn’t gotten a moment to himself until just now, what with the dance starting.

“Did you get some cake?” Percy tries filling the silence, before they can give in to anger. “Blue, which automatically makes it good.”

Annabeth’s lips quirk up.

“Of course  _ you  _ think so,” she says, and it would have been normal if not for the way her voice catches at the end.

He takes a moment to look at her. She’s in a dark blue dress that matches the ocean. The dress pulls a little tight at her waist and then flows outwards again. Deep skin shows at her shoulder where her hair’s been pulled up, twisted into a hairdo that looks far too complicated than Percy can comprehend.

“Something wrong, Seaweed Brain?”

There’s a red tint on her cheeks, he thinks, or maybe it’s just the fading light. Percy coughs. He’s been looking too long.

“Um, you look… good,” he says. Suddenly, even with the sea breeze and the setting sun, it’s too hot. He tugs at his collar.

“You don’t look half-bad yourself,” Annabeth replies, shifting from one foot to another. Percy glances down at the tux he’d dug out of his closet. It’s a little tight, but it fits alright.

He catches her eye for a moment, sees something in them, and then they both blush and look away. Percy tugs at his collar again.

“So, um,” he starts, and then he has to clear his throat. “So, what do you think?”

Annabeth relaxes a little.

“It’s beautiful,” she says. “Your mom really deserves it.”

Percy lets his eyes drift back to the dance floor. There she is, swept up in Paul’s arms and gazing into his eyes like he’s the only one there is.

“Yeah,” he says. For a moment, Percy thinks he might cry again.

There’s no one who deserves this more. Percy thinks of her body shielding his, thinks of golden light, thinks of her lullabies in the midst of thunderstorms.

He and Annabeth stand shoulder to shoulder for a moment, watching.

“No monsters tonight,” she notes.

On reflex, Percy glances over his shoulder, hand slipping into his pocket where Riptide is tucked away.

“No monsters tonight,” he agrees. An understanding passes between them; they will not let any monsters appear tonight.

The sand shifts under his feet, and finally, Percy gives up. He slips his shoes off and roots himself into the ground. To his left, he can feel the ocean calling for him, the waves humming a song only children of the sea can hear.

“Grover looks like he’s having fun.”

Percy picks out Grover in the crowd and laughs. He’s dancing with one of Paul’s nieces—Laura, he thinks—but they aren’t very good at it. Grover’s never been the graceful one, especially in shoes, but he’s laughing as he almost falls flat on his face. The sight makes Percy smile.

“He’s been so busy,” he murmurs. “It’s good to see him… like this.”

He doesn’t have to say more. Annabeth gets him.

The wedding is only a short reprieve from the war. Even now, it waits in Percy’s shadow, jaws poised to attack when he turns sixteen. The thought sends a chill down his back.

Annabeth touches his arm. Her face is unusually soft when she looks up at him.

“Stop thinking so much,” she says. “There’s time to worry later. Just… enjoy tonight.”

He sighs and takes a sip of punch.

“I know,” Percy grumbles. “You’re right.”

“I’m always right,” she says, and he laughs.

The silence gets a little awkward between them. Percy casts his gaze around looking for something.

“Do you wanna… go for a walk?”

Annabeth arches an eyebrow, but she’s red again. “Alone?”

Immediately Percy feels like he’s been strung upside down, and the blood is rushing to his head. Annabeth— he thinks— something in Percy’s brain shuts down.

“No, not like— no! Just, uh, just,” he says, and the rest of it dissolves into nervous laughter. Percy rubs at the back of his neck. “Don’t you think it’s a little hot? Might be good to cool off by the water.”

“Yeah,” Annabeth says, and she sounds almost breathless.

They make their way from the party and step out into the night. In the distance, the lights strung around the venue look like stars. The noise softens until everything—the music, the talking, the laughter—is just a buzz in the background.

“Hey,” Annabeth blurts suddenly, turning to face him. “I’m really glad we’re friends.” 

_ Friends  _ sounds a little weird, the way she says it.

“Me too,” he admits. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Annabeth lifts a hand, but she can’t quite hide the grin. “Probably eaten by some monster.”

“Maybe married to one?” he jokes, thinking of Grover, and they share a laugh.

“They’d be begging for a divorce,” Annabeth says.

“Oh, hush,” Percy says, shoving her a little and sending her stumbling a few steps.

“Per _ cy _ ,” she cries, and then she’s shoving him back, pushing him towards the water. They play-tussle for a few minutes, shoving and pulling and laughing.

There’s a moment where Annabeth grabs his wrist to stop him, and he falters at the feel of her fingers. Then he’s sailing, landing hard on the sand, and she’s standing over him like some goddess framed in moonlight.

_ Whoa _ , a quiet voice in him says.

“C’mon, Seaweed Brain,” she says, offering her hand. “You’re losing your touch.”

“Yeah, right,” Percy says, grabbing her hand and pulling her down with him. “I win.”

“Whatever.”

There’s sand all over his nice clothes now—Mom will be less than pleased, probably—but he doesn’t care. Annabeth brushes off some sand from her dress and then clambers to her feet. When she offers him a hand this time, he takes it.

“Hey,” Annabeth says, glancing over towards the party. “You… owe me a dance.”

He’s suddenly tugged back to Westover Hall. He gets the same feeling—the music distant like it’s spilling in from another room, the reflection of light on the water, Annabeth’s eyes on him.

“I guess I do,” Percy says, and Annabeth steps close enough to make him nervous. “Can you believe it’s only been a year?”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “So much has changed.”

Annabeth puts her arms around him, and Percy swallows and gently places his hands at her waist. They sway, stepping back and forth and following each other, like they always have.

“Percy…”

“What?”

Annabeth shakes her head.

“Next year—” Percy starts, and then he stops. Annabeth starts shaking her head again. “Next year, with the prophecy—”

“ _ Percy _ .”

He hasn’t read the prophecy, not yet, but he knows enough. He knows Annabeth and Chiron well enough that he can tell it’s bad. The number of times Rachel has called to tell him about her dreams—and him telling her about  _ his  _ dreams, the two of them covering the speakers to keep it quiet and whispering about nightmares.

Percy doesn’t know what it means, but he’s got a funny feeling he’s not going to make it past next year. And he’s learned to trust his funny feelings.

“What if,” he starts, but Annabeth cuts him off.

“Don’t, Percy.”

“But what  _ if _ ,” he says, and Annabeth relents. “What if I don’t get a next year, and I don’t get to do all the things I want to do, and—”

Annabeth stops them and takes his hand.

“I don’t want to die,” he whispers to the both of them.

“You won’t,” Annabeth says fiercely, closing the distance between them and wrapping her arms around him. Her voice is muffled against his shoulder. “I won’t lose you, Percy. I  _ won’t _ .”

She’s crying a little as she pulls back—and maybe Percy is crying, too, because nothing really matters as long as he has her.

“Hey,” he says, and without even thinking about it, he slides a thumb gently under her eyes to wipe away the tears.

“You’re my best friend,” Annabeth says, rubbing at her nose. “And Grover.”

Percy snorts.

“Grover’s different,” he says. “Grover…”

“Yeah. It’s different.”

And then Percy unwittingly thinks of Mt. St. Helens, not too long ago—the two of them hidden in the rocks, Percy’s heart beating fast in his throat. Annabeth, hat in her hand. Annabeth, dirt on her face but beautiful. Annabeth, glaring like she wants to punch him, her fingers instead fisting in the fabric of his shirt as she kisses him.

Heat pools in his stomach, and Percy can’t stop thinking about it.

About her.

It’s not a striking revelation. To be totally honest, it’s not a revelation at all—this feeling, the way his throat tightens when she’s around, how light she makes him feel.

But for a moment, Percy wants to tell her.

He’d tell her how much he  _ wants _ , the wanting that has taken root in his lungs and his heart.

_ What do you want _ , she’d say.

_ You _ , he thinks, and the word is sweet in his mouth when he looks at Annabeth.  _ You. _

But all of the words get clogged in his throat. It’s like choking for air; Percy coughs once.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, clearing his throat. “Yeah, I’m good.”

She doesn’t believe him, but she doesn’t say anything, either. Annabeth’s eyes slide over his shoulder towards the wedding reception, and she grips his arm.

“Shh,” she breathes. Her eyes flicker to his blazer. “Get Riptide.”

He understands without even having to speak. Monsters.

Annabeth herself slides a hand under her dress and procures her dagger, while Percy tries not to think about the sliver of skin that’d shown as he uncaps his pen. His sword gleams, the Celestial Bronze bright as daylight.

“Three at three o’clock,” Annabeth says. “We can get to them before they get to anyone else, but we have to move fast.”

They slip across the beach in tandem. It takes less than a minute with the two of them working together; the first dracanae turns, hissing, with glowing eyes that pierce Percy’s, but it only lasts for a second as she dissolves into dust. Annabeth’s already cut through the other one, and they take down the last monster together.

Annabeth’s breathing hard; her hair’s spun around her, some of it loose from its updo, and now settles around her shoulders.

“Nice work,” he compliments, and they high-five.

“Not bad yourself, hero,” she says, and she’s smiling. “And it seems like no one’s the wiser.”

“Almost no one,” Percy notes, seeing Grover jog towards the edge of the dance floor. Annabeth sends Grover a thumbs up. All’s good.

“Hey, you guys should come dance!” Grover hollers over the pulsing music. Annabeth glances sideways at him.

“Do you want to?”

“With you?”

Annabeth rolls her eyes. “Who else? Come on.”

She drags him back to the party, lets him put his arms around her again. Percy thinks he could kiss her if he really dared, but suddenly he’s not feeling very brave at all.

“You know,” he says when she’s pressed against his shoulder, the two of them stepping back and forth, “I’m glad I got to spend tonight with you.”

“Yeah?” Annabeth says. “Whatever’s coming, we do this together, Percy.”

“I know,” he tells her. They spin in a circle, and there’s nowhere else Percy wants to be. “Wouldn’t dream of letting go.”

**Author's Note:**

> i miss my kids lol 
> 
> had this ooold fic lying around and i thought i'd put it up! i still like it well enough and i thought someone might appreciate it. it's 2020 pjo fandom is reviving once more (and... stirring up discourse) so i'm going to sneak in and post percabeth fic duh
> 
> Tumblr: [queenangst](http://queenangst.tumblr.com)


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